Dead in Paradise
by D.J. Dresden
Summary: Draco works at a gay club. Harry is engaged to Cho Chang. After a chance meeting between the two boys, everything gets screwed up. But really, what is a meaningless fling between enemies? HPDM slash.
1. I Want You

Note: Welcome to the chaos. This story is an experiment. Where it is going? I have some ideas. I have been watching way too much gay drama lately. Anyway, please read and review. I enjoy feedback, and if you're reading this after Hidden Desires, thank you for having read that one as well! I haven't done much writing since then, but here is something.

Author: D.J. Dresden

The characters are not mine, they are Rowling's. Since she is free to turn Dumbledore gay, however, I figured I'd turn a few gay myself. Thanks.

Summary: After years apart, Harry and Draco have a chance meeting that screws everything up in their lives. Harry is currently engaged to be married to none other than Cho Chang, and Draco is immersed into a lucrative world of drugs and sex. The question becomes - what exactly is a meaningless fling between enemies?

**What's a meaningless fling between enemies?**

**Dead in Paradise**

**I Want You.**

**i.**

_At any other time and place, I could love you easily. But the time is now and the place is here. They say the war is over, and we can all be free. But if the evil is truly gone, why am I still stuck? I, for one, know that what they say isn't true. Who are they, anyway? When were 'they' given the authority to dictate to us what is and what is not supposed to be? No matter what world we are in, whether it is one full of magic or one that cowers in fear at the thought of magic, we will never be free._

"It makes me wonder what kind of life this is. What is the purpose of a life without freedom, peace, and love? To never truly fulfill our desires and lead a satisfying life?"

"What the fuck are you rambling about?" asked Draco drowsily, shifting around under the warm covers. He snuggled up to Harry's bare body and kissed the other boy's shoulder. His silver eyes opened, and he blinked a few times, his eyelashes brushing against Harry's skin.

"I am getting married," Harry said plainly, eyeing the clock but unable to see the time since he was not wearing his glasses. He narrowed his emerald green eyes, squinting slightly, but he still could only see the dark blur of the clock's hands. It was well past the time to leave, and he was aware of that. Lounging around with Draco Malfoy during a rainy afternoon was not the wisest of choices, but it had not stopped him from doing so. As his mind wandered, however, Harry could not entirely remember how he had ended up in bed with the ex-Slytherin.

"I know." Draco's voice was barely above a whisper as he buried his face into the side of Harry's upper arm. The brunette's scent was intoxicating to him, but he had to remind himself that this was a meaningless fling and meant nothing. It had, at least, meant nothing to Harry.

"So I should probably go," Harry commented dully while pulling his arm away from Draco's affectionate touch. Sitting up, he blindly began to feel around on the nightstand for his glasses. When he finally found them, he began another blind search for his pants, but it was to no avail. "I am turning the light on," he warned.

As Harry switched the light on, Draco covered his eyes and whined dramatically. "The fucking light! It's blinding me!" He peeked through the space between his fingers and watched the naked boy search for his pants. Harry's skin was sun kissed from being outside constantly and staying active. Draco uncovered his eyes and raised a dirty blonde eyebrow at the sight of Harry's abs. Somehow the blonde stopped himself from making a comment about how fit the other was.

Draco knew that he could not provoke Harry right now. Not with tender comments or lighthearted quips, for Harry despised Draco just as much as he always did.

It was like déjà vu. The same routine had taken place multiple times before. They met, they fucked, and Harry left. Generally he did this while Draco was still asleep, never giving the other boy a chance to give him a kiss goodbye or a farewell blowjob. Draco would be left alone to keep himself warm.

Harry got his jeans up around his narrow hips and buttoned them. After he slipped his t-shirt back on, he headed for the doorway. He glanced back over his shoulder at Draco, who was wearing a solemn expression. His own face was equally as mirthless. "You know this is the end, right?"

It seemed that the words they exchanged never were kind at this point. Draco moistened his dry lips. The warm air had left them feeling chapped and split. He hungered for them to meet Harry's lips once more, but he refrained from requesting this.

After some hesitation, Draco finally said, "Yeah."

With this Harry looked away and slammed the door shut behind him. Draco was alone once more.

In the back of his mind, Draco wondered if Harry would be happy. It was true that the dark haired man was going to get married and to a woman that Draco found himself abominating with every ounce of hatred he possessed: Cho Chang. She had been stunning in school but now that she was adult, she was every bit as beautiful as everyone thought she would be. The long flowing dark hair, the sienna eyes, and the dazzling white smile all made the blonde man want to vomit profusely; an immature reaction to say the least.

The insistent ticking of the clock reminded him that he needed to get up from bed. His muscles still ached from the previous night as he sat up and made his way to the bathroom to get a shower. He had to rid himself of Harry's scent.

As Draco stood under the hot water, feeling it fall directly on his head and mat his platinum hair down, he let his eyes fall shut.

"I love…" his voice trailed off and it seemed distant to him. Letting his head rest against the dampened tile wall in front of him, he exhaled heavily. If he had the ability to cry, surely he would have done so.

"No one," he finished his rhetorical statement finally, "I can't."

_Three Months Earlier_

It had been approximately one year, three months, and four days since the war had been over. Body counts were still not complete and there were still steady reports of loss every day. No magical family was immune from the devastating events that had taken place with the return of Lord Voldemort. The Ministry of Magic was in complete chaos and disarray, along with the rest of the magical world. There was no order anymore. Laws were disregarded. Buildings had crumbled pathetically without anyone to magically repair them. Hospitals were full of patients covered in irreversible hexes that would probably plague their bodies for the rest of their lives. Children, who had lost their parents, were sent to orphanages that barely fed them or cared for them at all. Many witches and wizards had had to make choices that they never dreamed they would have to make.

Draco Malfoy had had to make a choice as well: leave the magical world and do not return. Though it may have sounded simple, it was difficult to abandon everything he had ever known. His father and mother had fled. Something Draco had not expected from his mother, though he knew her maternal instinct had always been poor. The woman had left her son behind – Draco had to fend for himself. So now, Draco turned his back on a life that was all too familiar to him, for a life of which he knew nothing.

But the streets of London were beautiful and the clubs were far more provocative than the ones he had visited in the magical world. The living quarters he had assumed were a measly bedroom/bathroom/kitchenette/living room/crammed with too much shit flat. Though he was not aware of it, the glorious bohemian lifestyle that he had achieved would have made some others envious. Draco despised it along with everything that was muggle-like.

Somehow during his stay in the non-magical world, Draco had slowly lost contact with everyone in the magical world. When it had finally occurred to him that he had, he realized that he did not miss those people at all. Though, it felt like he was caught between two worlds where he had no feelings for the people in them.

So it was too his complete surprise, and absolute disdain, when his eyes met a familiar face in a muggle coffee shop one snowy afternoon. Yes, coffee. Draco had developed a taste and a craving for the sour ass-like beverage. Coffee left that bitter, yet, sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth, which was so reminiscent of his own life it made him angry. An odd reason to return periodically and buy the hot beverage that made him cringe.

He stood there, a million memories flooded back to him as he stared at the brunette boy- turned-man. Delicate strands of silvery-white fell into his light eyes. He seemed to be a perfect reflection of the snow that fell outside.

Then the man turned, and Draco felt himself freeze. Eyes met. As much as the blonde wanted to simply pivot and walk away, he could only stand there planted in a single spot. The weather had turned furiously cold as winter pursued and snow fell. Draco had bundled up in an attractive charcoal colored coat, a chic addition to the muggle wardrobe that he had obtained, and a navy scarf that covered the paper-like skin of his pale throat.

Draco's face was startling to Harry Potter.

Both stood there, eyes fixed on each other. Each man was suspicious of the other as they simultaneously reached into empty pockets only to realize their wands were not present; a habitual response.

But then Harry smiled. Draco sneered that this. _Why the fuck is he smiling?_ Draco thought.

Harry slowly approached Draco, holding a steaming cup of joe and wearing the same elusive smile on his lips. Wearing only a light jacket, Harry's own neck was exposed to whatever the elements had to throw at him. Draco continued to stand there, suspicious but curious.

"Malfoy," Harry's tone was as cold as the blizzard that raged outside the doors.

When Draco said nothing in response, Harry continued. "Lovely weather we are having."

_Why is he trying to make conversation with me?_ Draco thought. "What?" He blurted in response.

"The snow," Harry said, looking out the window briefly before turning his gaze back to the blonde.

_This is ridiculous_, thought Draco. "Right," he responded. He finally realized he could move his legs, and he decided that it would be for the best if he just left as soon as he could. There was something far too odd about Harry's semi-friendly demeanor and it frightened Draco.

Turning to walk away, Draco felt his arm being caught in the other man's strong grip. "It's over now," Harry said while his eyes focused on the blonde's profile.

"What?" Draco asked again only to realize he was beginning to sound redundant.

Harry smiled kindly as Draco met his eyes once more. "What you did before it was over was far braver that what I ever expected from you," said the brunette in a quiet tone.

Draco felt a chill course through his body. He tugged his arm away from Harry's hand and furrowed his brow. "I don't need to tell me about my supposed acts of bravery, Potter. Besides, I didn't do shit."

"No?" Harry asked. He vaguely wondered why he was trying to make conversation with someone who clearly was not making the effort back. "Maybe I am imagining things."

"This conversation isn't taking place," replied Draco through his teeth. "Not here. Not now. Not ever." He turned and walked out of the coffee shop.

_If he follows m-_

The blonde man's thought was cut off by the sound of Harry's voice. "Wait up!" Draco turned around, facing Harry's pleading eyes.

"What do you want?" Draco was growing impatient.

"To talk," Harry said quickly. "I know that you still hate me, and I am not thrilled with you either. Our relationship, obviously, wasn't a good one during Hogwarts. But you're just one of the first people I've seen since then - and here of all places." He looked around the busy streets. Nothing stopped the city from bustling with people, not even the weather. A parade of taxies passed as the two men faced each other.

Draco turned and began to walk only to have Harry keeping up with his strides alongside him. "Well you've gone this long without seeing me. I have done quite wonderful without your excruciating presence in my life. I think you will do fine without me in your life as well," Malfoy said dully. "I didn't do anything. You must have hit your head."

Harry made a face. "You abandoned all of the Death Eaters, though?"

"Yeah, so?"

It surprised Harry how quickly Draco had responded to this, and he looked at the other young man with widened eyes. "I don't think you're as much of an asshole as you'd like people to think."

"What do you know about me?!" Draco snapped, staring incredulously at Harry. He could not understand why any of this was happening.

"I know that I've almost known you for ten years and you have proceeded to surprise me numerous times. Generally in a negative way," Harry began, looking thoughtful. "You think you're a badass, but you're still humane. I know that your father didn't love you as much as you loved him…"

"You're fucking crossing the line, Potter," growled Draco.

"I know that I like you a lot, and I know…"

Draco cut Harry off this time. "What?!" he responded loudly.

"Hm?" Harry put his finger to his lip. "You didn't know that?" The black haired man wore an expression of innocence.

Malfoy cocked his head to the side and looked at Harry in disgust. "What do you mean _like _me?" He thought Harry was somehow being condescending. "Faggot! You're insane." He shook his head. "You've fucking lost it…"

Harry wore a mischievous smirk and followed behind Draco. "Oh come on, Draco! We can be friends, right?"

"That's Malfoy to you, Potter. We never were and never will be on a first name basis," fumed the blonde.

"Okay, Malfoy," Harry said. "You like the idea of friends, though."

"I don't! Because you're a goddamn delusional freak!" Draco responded impatiently. He turned around and was face to face with Harry, the tip of his nose was mere centimeters from the other man's nose. "Goddamn it."

Harry smiled and got out a piece of paper along with a pen. He scribbled something down on it and handed it to Draco. "I'm having a get together Saturday," he said. "Info is on the paper. I think that you should come and stop pretending that the past is completely erased just because you've chosen to ignore it." Warm green eyes met seething silver eyes. At this point, Harry was just forcing himself on Draco to piss the blonde off more.

Draco half-heartedly took the piece of paper that Harry shoved into his hand and growled quietly. "I'm not coming, you nut!" he called after Harry as the other man walked away from him.

"Yeah, yeah, you will," he heard Harry say in a confident tone.

At this Draco sneered again and walked in the opposite direction.

He hated it when the Gryffindor was right.

- - -

Read & review, please.


	2. A Meeting

Author: D.J. Dresden

The characters are not mine, they are Rowling's. Since she is free to turn Dumbledore gay, however, I figured I'd turn a few gay myself. Thanks.

Summary: After years apart, Harry and Draco have a chance meeting that screws everything up in their lives. Harry is currently engaged to be married to none other than Cho Chang, and Draco is immersed into a lucrative world of drugs and sex. The question becomes - what exactly is a meaningless fling between enemies?

What's a meaningless fling between enemies?

**A meeting not upon friends. **

**Dead in Paradise**

**A Meeting.**

**ii.**

Draco checked his watch – it was 4 P.M. on a Friday afternoon, and he was standing in the middle of an aisle in a Tesco. Deciding what cereal to buy was a difficult decision for the young man because he knew it would end up being his supper. Sighing a little, Draco exhaled the smoke from a cigarette.

"Excuse me…," said a small voice from behind him.

Cracking his neck, he turned and felt rather agitated. He knew that smoking inside of a grocery store was generally not permitted, but it never stopped him from trying. "Fine, I will stop smoking, all right?" he responded, casting a cold glare on whoever had just spoken to him.

"I wasn't going to say that," said the girl standing beside him. Draco realized that there was something familiar about the girl's shoulder length red hair. The freckles that adorned the girl's cheeks were also familiar. She looked like a prettier version of Ronald Weasley, and this thought alone made Draco want to gag.

"You're Draco Malfoy, right?" she asked quickly, her expression quizzical now.

"What?" Draco sputtered. The platinum blonde could not figure out what was with this week so far. First, he had encountered Harry Potter – possibly the last human being he ever wished to see. Now Draco faced the youngest Weasley child, and he felt quite uncomfortable in her presence.

In front of his Draco's eyes was Ginny Weasley. Her figure was thin and delicate, almost breakable, and she wore a simple dark sienna cloth skirt with a forest green sweater and hat. Once the Slytherin took in her appearance, it was obvious she was a Weasley.

"Oh, I am sorry! You looked really familiar. I thought you were someone else," stated Ginny apologetically.

After dropping his cigarette to white tile floor, he pressed the tip of his black converse on the dying flame, ensuring the demise of the cigarette. "Weasley, eh?" asked the man, never masking the coldness in his voice or face.

"So you ARE Malfoy!" said the girl in a victorious manner. "I can't believe it! What are _you_ doing here?"

Draco was sure he was in some alternate universe where he had always been on a friendly basis with Ginny Weasley. "Buying groceries, as people often do in supermarkets," he responded.

"I don't mean in the supermarket. I mean, what are you doing around…" she lowered her voice, "muggles?"

"Why exactly is that any of your business?" questioned Draco impatiently. "Why the hell are you talking to me anyway? Go away!"

"Why not? We're all on the same side," Ginny said with a bit of a gawky smile. There was something still childishly innocent about her demeanor, despite her being one of the most powerful witches in present existence.

Glancing around the desolate cereal aisle, Draco realized they were alone and there was no reason to feel so paranoid. Nevertheless, a chill coursed through his spine. The talk of sides caused him serious discomfort, and he turned on his heel to walk away from the girl, burying his hands in the pockets of his black military jacket as he moved.

"You look weird in muggle clothes," said Ginny with a laugh, knowing that she was currently irritating a man she had never been on good terms with.

The gray-eyed man flipped the girl the middle finger as he continued walking away, a box of cereal in hand.

"Are you coming to Harry's tonight, Malfoy?" she asked loudly from behind the man.

Malfoy turned around, standing a distance of about fifteen feet from the fiery red head, and gave her an aporetic look. The man could not figure out why she was asking him this, let alone how or why she knew Harry had asked him to go some absurd get together. "Am I being stalked?" he asked finally. "Really! What the fuck is wrong with you people? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Ginny furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to respond, but Draco hastily interjected. "Listen up. I don't know how you people are finding me or why you've decided to haunt me. I was never friends with you – in fact, I loathed you, and that feeling still holds true. I wasn't even remotely pleasant to you. So if you are all trying to screw with my mind or fuck with me, it's not going to work," he finished angrily.

Never breaking eye contact, Ginny nodded reluctantly after Draco finished speaking. She was never going to allow him to speak like that without having the last word, though. After taking a few steps forward, she forced another feeble smile as she planted herself directly in front of the boy. "Your majesty, forgive us all for trying to keep together what few people we have left. No matter how much you try to disassociate yourself with Harry's side – hell, _our_ side - you will always be one of the… well, good guys. So get over it, Draco! We mean well…" she paused, noticing the "we" she had included in her sentence, and she looked dejected. The awkwardness of the entire situation had finally set in. "He means well, rather. I do, too."

Draco wore a suspicious expression, eyeing the girl from head to toe. "What is this thing… party for anyway?" he asked after some hesitation. He felt like all of this pressure was breaking him down, and he was tired of fighting back. However, Malfoy would never admit this openly.

"It's an engagement party, really," Ginny said, perking up only slightly. The red haired girl still seemed downcast by this, though.

"Oh," Draco said simply, looking uninterested.

"You should come." 

"That is just stupid. Fuck engagement parties. I don't care if you guys are getting married or not. A big bloody Gryffindor arrangement, eh?"

"We aren't."

Draco said nothing in response, but he appeared bemused by the information.

"Harry's getting married to someone else," Ginny continued, not being able to stand the look and silence the other was giving her. "That's fine. I am going to still go to the party and," she hesistated slightly, "the wedding, of course. We are all friends – no need for hard feelings."

This, above all things, confused Draco. Ginny and Harry had dated heavily throughout the latter years of Hogwarts and from what little Draco had heard since then, it seemed that the boy-who-lived and the youngest Weasley were destined and doomed for marital bliss.

"I am not even going to ask. Just forget it Weasley. You're not coaxing me into going to some shitty Potter engagement party that you probably don't even want to attend yourself!" Draco said with finality.

_Forty-five Minutes Later_

"This is _it_?" Draco asked condescendingly.

"Oh shut up. This place is lovely. These are some of the nicest flats this side of town!" Ginny remarked while rolling her eyes.

The building was considerably nicer than the one Draco currently inhabited, and it appeared well maintained. Plush wine colored carpeting lined the hallway, while the walls were a deep cream – the lighting gave the hall a gold tint. The ambience was good, and Draco felt envious that this was the building that Harry Potter called a home. Potter had gotten enough attention and fame during their years at Hogwarts and throughout his entire life – and Draco found it unfair that Harry obtained such an easy life.

Ginny bit on her lower lip as she knocked on the door, glancing at Draco out of her peripheral vision. It was obvious she was not sure why the young man had agreed to accompany her or come at all, but could not see the harm in attempting to be kind now. For so many reasons, her thoughts did not make any sense. After all the things Draco had said and done, she should have never have even considered forgiving him. _Draco did, after all, come over to Harry's side, right? _She was not entirely sure, but she decided it made no difference now. Voldemort was dead, and history was merely that. All of that aside, she could not help but to admire how lovely Draco was. Her thoughts strayed to his delicate, but worn looking face, and she found herself completely distracted by his presence.

Both Ginny and Draco heard voices coming from inside the flat, and the sound of footsteps grew louder. The door opened swiftly, and both the boy and the girl stood there awkwardly in the presence of Harry Potter.

"Ginny!" Harry said, and he looked pleased. When he gaze shifted to Draco, he looked lost, but still pleased. "Good of you to come," he remarked to other young man. Potter's overt happiness made Draco want to puke.

Moving forward, Ginny gave Harry a hasty hug, which last for a split second before she shuffled past him and inside the flat. Harry stared at Draco for a moment, and then motioned him to come in. He had not actually expected Draco to show up for the little event, but he hid this feeling well.

"I think I will go," Draco said with a sneer as he turned away.

"No! Come on in, please," responded Harry.

Draco looked at the other man reluctantly. The blonde haired boy had yet to figure out why he was here. Ginny's explanation simply did not suffice – the idea of keeping all of the people together simply because they had been the survivors. In fact, Draco was not sure how Ginny had known that Harry had invited him tonight, and he made a mental note to ask her about it when he saw her again.

Suddenly a young dark haired female wearing a slinky black dress pushed past Harry and practically entwined her body with Draco's lithe body. "DRAC-Y!"

"What the fuck?" Draco said as the girl smothered him. "What the hell are you doing to m-… Pansy?"

Pansy Parkinson eyed Draco in an almost hungry fashion. She was narrow like Ginny, but not nearly as delicate. Her bare arms were slightly muscular, and her sleeveless, slinky black dress – which she wore on that particular excruciatingly cold winter evening – showed off her arms and other assets. She had a shoulder length reverse bob, and her hair was just as silky and black as it had been during school.

The female was like a precocious preschooler with a brand new toy. "The one and only, darling!" she responded with a blinding and slightly unattractive smile.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and then he eyed the girl with the same suspicious look he had given Ginny earlier. "Wait… you're not… marrying _him_ are you?" He looked around her shoulder at Harry and shot the Gryffindor a dirty look.

"Oh god, no!" Pansy said, looking a bit exasperated. "No offense, Harry," she said quickly before she turned her attention on Draco once more. "No, no. Harry is marrying Miss Chang. Didn't you know that?"

"Why would I know that? I don't concern myself with Potter's affairs," Draco assumed his malicious tone. "I am not even sure how I got coaxed into coming here, and I definitely don't plan on staying here either. This place is shit."

Déjà vu set in as they were once more at each other's throats. The two boys were back in school, trying to freeze one another with a glare before they would cast a hex. Ice passed between the two males.

"All right, Malfoy. Leave then," said Harry calmly. "Just go back to your reclusive state and never face any of us again. You know, god forbid any of us try to tell you that you did one thing right. One thing! God forbid any of us make a simple gesture to show you that… that the war is over! I've tried and tried to contact you, I wasn't even sure you were alive, and then I just saw you the other day and thought…"

"You thought wrong, Holy Saint Potter," Draco responded in a sharp tone. "Like you tried so hard because I was just so difficult to find since we live in the same city." He exhaled and gave Harry a tired look. "I don't have time for you to tell me how to feel about the decisions I have made..."

"Whoa there, gentlemen," Pansy interrupted while linking her arm with one of Draco's. She adopted the attitude of a mediator and rested her head against Draco's shoulder. "I think we should all play nice for one night. We have all had our problems in the past, no? Let's just ignore them for now. Draco, please stay for a bit. We're going to drink and play some games. It will be fun!"

"Since when did you make decisions at Harry Potter's fucking engagement party extravaganza?" Draco asked, looking far more annoyed at this point.

Harry looked as though he was about to say something, when Pansy said, "Since I am the Maid of Honor!"

Draco's mouth fell a little, and he appeared completely dumbstruck by the information. "What the bloody hell?" He looked back and forth between Harry and Pansy, and he had no idea when Pansy had become pals with Cho Chang. None of this made sense to him anymore. Malfoy swore he was now in some alternate universe, and there was absolutely no escaping from the inevitable.

"

Maid of what?" Draco said. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, Draco. While you were off doing whatever you were doing, I was making friends. Lots of them and they are really nice," Pansy said sweetly.

"Oh god."

_Thirty Minutes Later_

Draco found himself sitting on the floor of Harry Potter's living room, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The situation, to say the least, was one of the most bizarre things that he had ever encountered. So many wizards and witches had not surrounded him since he had decided to move from the magic world to the muggle world. People were drinking and having fun – maybe too much fun. Music was playing loudly enough where people could dance, but softly enough where the neighbors would not feel the need to complain. Pansy sat at Draco's side and had her arms wrapped around his waist. Since Draco had been to the party, he had yet to see the bride-to-be - it did not matter to him either. For the most part, the young blonde man had spent an abundance of his time surveying the inner workings of Harry Potter's flat, and made little mental notes on how garish some of the decorations were.

Gray eyes scanned through each member of the crowd as Draco found himself absentmindedly running his tongue along the rim of the beer bottle. After spotting Harry dancing with Cho Chang, he wanted to gag.

Part of the nausea stemmed from how pretty Cho was. She wore fitted dark jeans, a red blouse that fit her form in a lovely fashion, and red lip gloss to match. Her straight black hair was tied up, a few loose strands falling around her face.

"How fucking hetero," Draco muttered.

"Excuse me?" Pansy asked, looking at Draco with puzzled eyes.

"Nothing," Draco responded nonchalantly. "When are they getting married?" He asked as if he actually gave a damn.

"In four months," Pansy said with a sigh. "Cho wants to wait until the weather gets warmer. She refuses to get married in this blizzard."

After a few minutes, Harry and Cho approached Draco and Pansy. Harry thought the two Slytherins looked extra cozy and wondered if sparks had flown between the two. The thought of Slytherins in love made Harry want to gag.

"So Draco, what do you do for a living?" Harry asked, striking up a conversation that was too bizarre for even Draco's tastes. Draco simply glared at the Gryffindor, his upper lip curling in distaste at the question.

"I work," Draco replied. This answer, however, apparently did not suffice. Harry was still staring at Draco expectantly. "At a club."

"Oh! A club, really?" cut in Cho. She looked interested in the information despite having never conversed with Draco before in her life. "What kind of club?"

"A gay club," Draco replied casually.

Silence is a funny thing. There are moments when one desperately wishes for silence, aching for a relief from the chaotic noise of life. A mere exchange of looks can speak a million words in the company of silence. Despite such cravings for silence, however, there are times when one seeks some form of verbal response. The looks that Harry and Cho were giving Draco, however, were speaking a million nasty words. Harry's eyes were piercing into Draco's, and Draco was unsure if the he was be given was bewilderment, disgust, surprise, or a combination of all.

Finally, Pansy broke the quiet, "Oh! I know a few blokes who work in gay bars! They're not all gay either, mind you. Just a way to earn some money, you know?" she said quickly, patting Draco on the arm in a reassuring 'I know _you're_ not gay' manner. "If you've got a pretty face, it'll always help you out in a place like that. You, my dear, definitely have a pretty face," she gazed at the blond with a smile. "Look at that bone structure!"

Draco stared back at Pansy whilst trying to figure out what her last couple of sentences even meant. "A place like that?" he asked.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I love my gay boys, but they're all so shallow," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well… true," Draco agreed.

Cho Chang interjected. "I can't imagine how someone could work in a gay bar without being gay. That is preposterous. Don't you think, Harry?" Her voice was higher and more grating than Draco remembered.

Harry was still staring at Draco in a fashion that made the Slytherin uncomfortable. "Yeah, Cho. It's very weird," he agreed absentmindedly.

Draco looked away from Cho and Harry, shaking his head.

"Do you bartend?" Pansy asked. "Lots of the straight boys I know bartend at gay bars."

"Not quite," Draco said, locking eyes with Pansy. A mischievous smirk curled itself onto his pale rosy lips. Sometimes making people uncomfortable was highly entertaining and all around good fun.

"Then what do you do?" Harry finally asked, an eyebrow curiously raised.

"We'll just say I bartend. Sometimes dance."

"Dance?" Cho asked. "Are you a stripper?" she looked appalled at the idea.

Pansy, Harry, and Cho looked equally baffled - the idea of Draco dancing was absurd. The blond barely danced at parties during their time at Hogwarts – and none of them could imagine him dancing in a gay bar for any reason, let alone as an occupation. Dancing and Draco did not make sense.

"No, I am not a stripper," Draco replied, rolling his eyes.

"Do you like it?" Cho asked.

"It's... euphoric," Draco said with a half-smile.

Cho sat there looking aghast. Harry seemed indifferent. Pansy appeared amused.

Putting down his empty beer bottle, Draco released himself from Pansy's death grip and stood up.

"Listen, I am going to go. I've told you all you need to know, right? I know you wanted some big Hogwarts' reunion, but this is all I have. A life that none of you understand - let alone care about. So, there is nothing here for me. I have no reason stay," Draco said, heading towards the door. This time Pansy did not protest. The entire situation had been far too awkward.

Pushing through the people he had never bothered to associate with, Draco made his way out of the stuffy flat.

Draco wished never to see Harry Potter or his beautiful bride-to-be ever again.

His wish was not granted.

- - -

Read and review, please.


	3. Euphoria

Author: D.J. Dresden

The characters are not mine, they are Rowling's. Since she is free to turn Dumbledore gay, however, I figured I'd turn a few gay myself. Thanks.

Summary: After years apart, Harry and Draco have a chance meeting that screws everything up in their lives. Harry is currently engaged to be married to none other than Cho Chang, and Draco is immersed into a lucrative world of drugs and sex. The question becomes - what exactly is a meaningless fling between enemies?

Notes: I know the space of time between the first chapter and second chapter (in terms of me writing them) is rather lengthy, but I am working on this story consistently now that I have a little free time. I would love some real feedback – anything that could help me improve and/or provide a little encouragement to keep working on this story. I have a really clear plan for it, so I just want to know if the interest is there from readers.

What's a meaningless fling between enemies?

**I want to take you to a gay bar.**

**Dead in Paradise**

**Euphoria.**

**iii. **

"God, you're bloody hot, you know that?"

A man with piercing green eyes and dark brown hair was leaning over the bar top, talking quietly in the direction of Draco's ear. Draco flashed a smile.

"What can I get for you, sir?" Draco polished off the top of a martini glass as he asked.

"What do you recommend?" the stranger asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well," Draco paused, looking back towards the bottles that lined the wall behind him. "It depends on what you're in the mood for."

The man smiled. Draco knew the man was not in the mood for a drink.

"I'll get you a beer." Draco disappeared shortly, and then returned with a bottle and a chilled glass.

"Thanks, love," the man said, giving Draco a little wink.

It didn't matter what Draco was wearing or doing – he received this attention on a consistent basis. His shoulder length silvery blond hair was enough to catch eyes. Euphoria, the club where he was working, was constantly hot – in a literal sense. He tucked his hair behind his ears as he worked behind the bar, though strands would get lost and fall into his light eyes. Those light gray orbs that he lined in black kohl. Draco wore a black tank, worn jeans that contoured to his narrow body, and the usual black converses. Impeccable fashion sense was obviously not his intent. In a place like this, he may as well have been completely nude – but his clothes fit him so damn well.

A new man sat down at the bar, but Draco worked on his own time clock. After finishing with the glasses, he looked up to see a new set of green eyes. These eyes were not looking at him, though. They were different. They were staring directly ahead, under a pair of dark furrowed brows.

Draco's eyes widened. He immediately recognized these familiar eyes.

"Potter?" he sputtered in a high voice before he could stop himself. He did not even notice that he sounded about thirteen when he said the man's name.

Harry did not bother to make eye contact with Draco.

"They thought you were joking," Harry said finally. Draco simply stared at him without a response. "Hell, Malfoy. I thought you were joking, too. I mean, really. This?"

The dark haired man looked around at the club. Blue and green lights flashed and the music was so loud that the vibrations pulsated through the floor and walls. Men, mostly in their twenties and thirties, were dancing – many of them shirtless.

"You finally accept the muggle world, and this is what you settle on?" Harry finished.

"I have _never_ accepted the muggle world," Draco said with vehemence.

"No? So you just decide to be a prostitute for all the bloody muggles?" Harry asked, looking agitated, not seeming to care that there were plenty of these "muggles" around.

"Why do you give a shit? Really? I would think that you would be happy to see this," Draco said in a hushed voice. When Harry looked at him blankly, he continued, "I mean, if you think I am so fucking miserable, this should make you really happy."

Harry did not reply, and this pissed Draco off more. Never was Potter speechless, and Draco was infuriated by his silence. He knew the Gryffindor was looking down on him, and he did not want to be subject to Harry's proud face any longer.

"Okay, Potter. You've seen what you need to see. Get the hell out now." Draco threw the rag down at the glasses he had been polishing, and walked to the other end of the bar.

To his surprise, he saw Harry push himself away from the bar and disappear into the crowd of people. Draco knew Harry was heading in the direction of the exit, and the blond let out a sigh of relief. Harry had been mocking him. That was why the Gryffindor had tracked down the Slytherin. How Harry knew the club that Draco worked at, he did not know.

"Goddamn it!" Draco cursed, punching the wall.

- - -

Two hours had passed since the Harry Potter debacle had occurred, and Draco's shift was ending.

"You getting out of here, Drachy?" Jason, who was one of the dancers, asked. For some reason, his coworkers had decided to give him a nickname - an annoying nickname. Jason stretched himself out on the bar, eyeing the blond curiously.

"Rhys is covering the side work, so I am calling it a night," Draco replied simply.

"I'm getting off soon. Maybe I can help you get off, too," Jason offered, never bothering to be subtle. No one there was. It was all sex. Romance did not exist in this club. No one wanted a life partner – just an easy screw would suffice.

"I have plans tonight," Draco lied. He then turned and left the club, without a word to anyone else.

The streets were so much quieter than the club was, though he could faintly hear the music as he began down the sidewalk. His flat was a few blocks away, and the walk home was generally refreshing. It was 4 AM and freezing out, however, and Draco simply wanted to go home and drink some hot tea.

As he turned the corner onto an even more desolate street, he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped in his tracks, glancing behind himself, but he saw no one. Instinctively Draco reached into his pocket for his wand, only to realize he did not carry it with him to the club. He did not usually carry it anywhere because there was not a need.

He finally turned and began to walk once more, keeping his hands shoved into the pockets of his black hoodie. Part of him wondered if he was simply being paranoid. It was highly possible that his ears were still ringing as an aftereffect from loud music.

Then he heard the distinct sound of footsteps again. As he turned around, he felt someone grab his shoulders and shove him into the nearby brick wall of a building. Draco's head slammed into the cold bricks, and he barely had time to react or cry out in pain when he felt the person forcing their hand down his jeans.

"Get off!" Draco moaned, trying to shove the man off him. His efforts were to no avail, and the man continued to undo the button on Draco's jeans.

"Fuck off, man!" Draco yelled. He did not know who would hear him. It was an abandoned street at 4 AM. This would be his life. Getting raped in an empty street after work.

Every time Draco tried to move, the man just shoved him back into the wall harder. Draco began to resign himself to this fate.

Then there was a blinding flash of light. Someone yelled something. Draco was not sure what happened, but the pressure of the man's grip disappeared. The blond man sank down to the freezing sidewalk, and put his hands on his own head. Was his head bleeding? He felt warmth on the back of his head, and when he touched the area, it was warm and damp. Blond hair streaked with crimson.

Draco moved to stand up, but sank down to the ground, suddenly feeling discombobulated. Was the blow to his head worse than he thought? He could not just stay there, though. This was his opportunity to get away. Placing his palms against the wall, he tried to maneuver himself into a standing position. Clutching the back of his head with his right hand, he began to walk down the street once more.

A silhouette appeared in front of him. Then it all went black.

- - -

Though his eyes were shut, Draco was conscious and light was filtering in through his eyelids. He heard himself groan, but he had not made any effort to produce the sound. The noise just escaped his throat. At first, he could not feel very much. In fact, he was almost completely numb. When he tried to move his body, his shoulders, back, and head ached terribly. Another groan exited his throat.

He heard a woman's voice nearby. She had a thick Cockney accent. If she was talking to him, he had no idea what she was saying to him. Draco was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Finally, he forced his eyes to open. A fluorescent-like light from overhead produced the bright lights, and the voice belonged to a nurse.

"Can you hear me?" she said, obviously repeating herself from her tone.

"Yes," Draco replied groggily.

"Good. Are you having any difficulties hearing me or seeing me?"

"No…"

She did not say anything immediately, and Draco could hear a pen scratching against a clipboard. No. Not a pen. A quill.

"Pain?" she asked.

"Obviously…" Draco said, his eyes blinking slowly as he spoke.

The woman rolled her eyes. "He'll be just fine. Just give him some time to rest. The one I used should fix him up just fine…" Draco heard footsteps as the woman left the room.

Shutting his eyes, Draco was settling back into sleep. He did not bother to wonder whom the nurse had been speaking to, and he let out a sigh of discomfort.

Then he felt the presence of another human being nearby. Draco's eyes flickered open momentarily, his vision still readjusting to the light that flooded in. His eyes met a pair of familiar orbs, but his mind could not process the image.

He drifted back to sleep again.

- - -

_Next morning. _

Draco awoke again, more light flooding into his room than the previous night. He wondered if he was by a window. His eyes opened, and he looked around the room. There were voices faintly coming from the outside from the corridor. Trying to collect his thoughts, he tried to remember where he was and what had happened to him. All he could remember were the eyes. With some effort, he propped himself up and realized he was in a hospital bed.

"Oh shit…" he said to himself.

It was no mere hospital bed. It was no mere muggle hospital room. Someone had checked Draco into St. Mungo's the night before - St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. His mind traced back to the events that had taken place before he had awoken in this room. He could not recall any magic taking place – just a standard rape attempt. Cringing at the thought, he sat up in the bed and looked around the had set his clothing aside for him, and he had been doubtlessly magicked into a nightgown the night before. He collected his clothes, which had been neatly fold and placed on a tabletop, and began to peel off the nightgown.

"Nice dress, Malfoy."

Draco practically ran into the wall out of surprise. Quickly pulling the nightgown back down over his body, Draco messily shoved his hair out of his eyes and turned around to face the voice.

"At least they let you wear underwear," Harry said, not giving Draco a chance to speak. The black-haired man stood awkwardly by the door, his hands in his pockets, and his glasses pushed up off his face. With his hair brushed back, his scar acted as a prominent centerpiece for his forehead. He wore a gray sweater over a t-shirt and a pair of dark corduroy pants that would have looked terrible on anyone else. All of these details of his appearance, from the way he was standing to the intervals between blinks, Draco took in needlessly.

"What are you doing here?" Draco looked incredulous.

"I had to make sure you were alive."

"What?" Draco was still dumbfounded.

"I brought you here last night. I wanted to make sure that you're okay today. At least, as okay as you can-"

Draco cut him off. "You brought me here? How the hell did you… no better question. I never saw you last night. How could you have possibly brought me here, Potter?"

"Well, I was…"

"I want an answer now!" Draco spat, pointed at Harry in threatening manner.

"You probably shouldn't be yelling," Harry said with a sigh.

"Your head was injured. Quite badly, in fact. There was a lot of blood…"

"And why were you there in the first place?"

"I was going to talk to you," Harry said, looking hopeless.

"Fine, whatever," Draco was becoming impatient, even though he was barely letting Harry get a word in. "I want to know who the fuck did this to me, Potter. If I find out later that it was you, I am going to really bloody pissed!"

"Why would I… Jesus, Malfoy. Why would I try to take advantage of you? Then bring you here?" Harry seemed undoubtedly disgusted by the notion. Draco was not sure if it was the idea of him or the idea of assault joined with attempted rape that bothered Harry more.

Draco was silent, waiting for something more. "I felt awful," Harry said finally. "I wanted to talk to you. I felt like… I felt like we were all forcing this big happy magic family on you, and you didn't want any of it."

"Damn right I don't!" Draco interjected.

Harry continued."I know you don't. Then when you actually showed up to the party, I was less than cordial. Then Cho," he paused, as if choosing words carefully, "She could have had more tact, I suppose."

"Do you not understand that I was almost raped last night?" Draco asked bluntly, noticing how Harry flinched at the words. "I know that…" "Then why are you talking to me about your little wife-to-be and your… lack of politeness? Do you really think I care about those things, Potter? How you and your woman regard me isn't my top priority right now," Draco said, becoming fed up with other man even more. He began to put his jeans on underneath the nightgown.

"I am trying to explain to you what happened, Malfoy," Harry said, now losing his patience with the Slytherin.

"Oh, please…"

"Shut the hell up when I am talking to you!" Harry demanded.

Draco was silent.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, thanks. Um…" Harry averted his gaze as Draco completely peeled the nightgown off and was standing there shirtless in front of him. He could not help but to notice how pale the blond man's body was, even out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy almost looked translucent, yet slightly effervescent. "So, I went to the club to talk to you. That obviously didn't go very well. So after I left the bar, I decided to hang out a bit and talk to you after you got off of work. At some point, I think I completely zoned out and missed you when you first left the club. I saw you turning the corner quite a distance ahead of me… and when I happened upon you…"

"There just so happened to be some elusive character trying to get friendly with my…"

"Listen, Malfoy. I think the guy followed you from the club. One of the many patrons that you charm with your bizarre come-hither smiles, I am sure. I am just glad that I was there, because you didn't look like you were having much luck stopping him!" Harry was growing angry.

"Glad you were there? You were glad…"

"No, that is _not_ what I am saying. Stop trying to twist my words around. I wish I had never seen that. You, bleeding and defeated pinned against a wall, and some fucking nutter trying to get his – is _that_ what you think I want to see? We might not get along, but I don't wish that kind of shit on you. Not ever."

Once again, Draco was silent. "I just wanted to apologize. It sucks, to put it plainly, when people make a friendly gesture, and then try to throw it back in your face and act like arrogant cows. You were my guest the other night. You had not done anything wrong. We were uncivil. Even when I went to initially talk to you at the club, well, I could have handled it better."

Draco stood there, now wearing the clothes he had been in the previous night.

"I cursed his genitalia."

"You what?" Draco asked, looking aghast.

"The guy from the street. I cursed his genitalia," Harry repeated.

Draco was still stunned, shaking his head slightly. "What the fuck, Potter?" though he asked this, he almost appeared amused by the idea.

"He probably won't be able to use it for a while. In fact, I would venture on to say it won't function properly for a good year or so. He deserved it." After another moment of silence, Draco laughed quietly. His head hurt even when he used his voice softly.

"You're crazy, Potter. Seriously." He shook his head, and began to leave the hospital room.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, following behind Draco. "You don't even know if you are going to be okay."

"I'm here. I'm breathing. I'm okay."

Harry caught up and walked alongside the other man. "You injured your head. Even with the help of a healer, there is still a chance that you could have some negative aftereffect from the impact."

"I'll be fine," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"That's what you say. You're still recovering, and you cannot be so sure…"

"Merlin, Potter. Did I acquire some sort of pesky pet when I got... hurt? Because you will not stop following me, will you?" Draco asked, stopping in his tracks. Harry stopped beside him.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on you - at least for a couple of days. I don't care what you say this time."

Draco rolled his eyes, growing tired of the persistence. "Are you going to babysit me, Potter?"

"If I have to, yes. That might piss you off, but it wouldn't be the first thing I did to cause that reaction."

Draco did not realize how serious Harry was.

- - -

Please review. I mean really, if you got to the end of this page, what is stopping you? Thanks!


	4. Damaged Goods

Author: D.J. Dresden

The characters are not mine, they are Rowling's. Since she is free to turn Dumbledore gay, however, I figured I'd turn a few gay myself. Thanks.

Summary: After years apart, Harry and Draco have a chance meeting that screws everything up in their lives. Harry is currently engaged to be married to none other than Cho Chang, and Draco is immersed into a lucrative world of drugs and sex. The question becomes - what exactly is a meaningless fling between enemies?

What's a meaningless fling between enemies?

**The world changed. A little. **

**Dead in Paradise**

**Damaged Goods. **

**iv. **

Draco unlocked the door to his flat, walked inside, and did not bother to lock the door behind him. He walked into the kitchenette, got a small porcelain cup out of the cupboard, turned the teakettle on over the stove, and got the tea out of the pantry. The door shut, and he heard a few footsteps plodding across carpet. Returning to the cupboard, Draco got a second cup out of the cupboard. Placing the cups together on the counter, he poured some hot water over the tea.

When he turned, Harry was standing in the same awkward manner that he had been standing in at the hospital.

"Tea," Draco said simply. It was not a question or an offer, just a statement.

"Thanks?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and then picked up the second cup. He sniffed it as if he was expecting to recognize the scent of poison through the smell of tea.

"Why the hell are you here?" Draco said, as he watched Harry take a reluctant sip.

"I told you at the hospital," Harry replied.

"Well, I don't trust you," Draco said, blowing on his tea while leaning against one of his countertops. To his surprise, Harry was not paying any attention to him. The famous boy-who-lived was distracted by one of the posters in Draco's kitchen.

"You like old films?" Harry then asked.

Draco blinked. "I like films, yes. Old and new depending on cinematography, plot, acting… and I digress. Listen, Potter. I am going to be fine. You don't have to be the hero all of the time. I don't know what you're expecting from me. Some sort of budding friendship because you happened to save my ass? Well, I am not going to thank you because you were stalking me down dark streets at night. Nor am I going to thank you for your unwanted presence in my flat right n-"

This time Draco cut himself off. He dropped his cup, the hot tea pouring out as the container spun to the floor and shattered into miniscule pieces. He grabbed his forehead, and leaned over the counter. Harry's gripped Draco's shoulders, led him around the pieces of broken cup, and guided him to a chair.

"That severe?" Harry asked, while Draco shut his eyes and seemed to be overcoming whatever pain he was feeling.

"Just go away," the Slytherin groaned, putting his palms on his forehead and pushing his blond hair back out of his face. He needed to take a shower, he felt grimy and tired.

"You overestimate yourself, Malfoy," Harry said, sitting down in the chair opposite of Draco's at the small oak table in the kitchen.

"I just want to be alone!" Draco yelled needlessly.

Harry sat back in the chair. It was obvious that he was not defeated yet, and his mind was constructing some sort of argument.

"I don't know why you insist on trying to make us friends. I don't know why you're trying to force yourself to… like me. There was never a time where we could be friends. We weren't the same sort of people in school, and we sure as hell aren't going to be able to change that now. I find you to be insufferable. You find me disgusting. Stop playing hero for one fucking second of your life, Potter. The boy-who-lived savior to all act is getting really tiresome – not to mention unnecessary. This war mentality? It's all over now."

Placing his fist over his mouth, Harry continued to lean back in the chair, observing Draco as the man sat there in silence.

"I meant what I said the other day, when I invited you to the party. I like you," Harry stated. He hastily corrected this statement. "I mean, in a friendly way. I think we can be friends because of what you did during the…"

"I just said that it's all over, Potter. We're not fighting the dark lord now," Draco interrupted, looking exhausted by the topic already.

"I know we're no longer fighting. Damn it, Malfoy, I really do know that. There are just so few of us left. I'm getting sick of the pettiness. It seems so pointless now." Harry gazed out of Draco's window, and it became evident to Draco that the other man had not slept.

"Right now… right now I just want to put all of that aside. I am here for one reason now. You got hurt, and I happened to be there. I can't just extricate that from my memory. So I need to know if you have someone who can spend time around you for the next few weeks and make sure that you're going to be fine. The last thing you need is to be left alone for long periods."

"You don't know that I am going to be alone," Draco replied smugly. "Do you really think I spend a lot of time alone, Potter?" he leaned in, resting both of his palms on the tabletop. "That would be fucking pitiful."

"Is there someone who can take care of you? Besides with… that?" Harry made a face.

Draco opened his mouth to respond, and then shut it again. _I have no one, _he thought. It was far more pitiful than he had imagined, but he refused to admit it.

"People die from head injuries. They can receive what seems like a relatively innocent blow on the head, and it can lead to death later on. The Healer could only do so much when she patched you up, but I think you're disregarding how deep the gash was. No one can foresee complications due to head trauma. I think you should go back to the hospital in a day or two."

"Really, Potter…"

"Don't be unreasonable," Harry said. "After all of the suffering and death we have dealt with, do you really want to be defeated by some would-be rapist?"

- - -

Draco had been working with a specific schedule since he had bought into the "muggle city life" as he liked to refer to it. The schedule began when he awoke, which generally happened sometime in the afternoon around one or two. Typically, he made tea, though some days he walked to the coffee shop, and then he would shower around three. He usually cooked something at home, but on certain days, he liked to get curry or sushi. After a meal, he generally spent his time reading some mysterious new book by a muggle author (their subject matter was so delightfully mundane in comparison to what he was use to) or watch a film. On Mondays and Wednesdays he liked to walk around the city, find new shops, and buy random old muggle memorabilia that had no particular significance – it was simply fascinating and new to him. Once he was done with his exploration, he would go home and shower again, then dress for work. Then the rest of the night was dedicated to whatever money and decadence he could get himself.

This week he had to alter his schedule. Not long after he would wake up, shower, and dress, there would be a knock at his door. Still unenthusiastic about the idea, Malfoy would walk to the door and half-heartedly open it a crack. He never opened it enough to actually let Potter in – he merely propped it open just enough where Harry could push for himself.

Harry did not seem to have any problem with this, however, and he simply went about the visit as if it was completely normal. _Apparently forcing his way into homes is a common practice for Potter_, Draco thought. There was something eerily business-like about Harry's demeanor, and Draco did not mind this. It meant that they would not have to speak as much to each other.

Variations of the same questions were asked each day. "How are you feeling?" "Has anything changed?" "Are you in a lot of pain?" "Have you been feeling the same? I mean, relatively normal?" "Do you need anything?"

Draco's responses were the same every day. "Fine." "No." "Sometimes." "Mostly." "Not really."

So this cycle continued for a week and a half, nothing really changing. Just a few redundant questions, no attempt at a conversation, and a former nemesis hanging around his flat for an hour or two – and Draco was becoming used to it.

It was early one Wednesday afternoon, and Draco had just gotten out of the shower. He had put on a pair of clingy jeans that had attained a few holes from being worn so often, and a white t-shirt that stuck slightly to his still damp body. His hair was wet, but it still glistened in the sunlight that filtered through his curtains. Barefoot, he made is way across the chilly wooden floor of his living room, and was heading for the kitchen. Hearing a knock at the door, he let out an exasperated sigh and walked over; opening the door in the same manner he had every day before.

Harry let himself in and watched as Draco walked into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. "How are you feeling?" he asked, shutting the door behind him as usual.

"Fine," Draco replied, pulling out a carton of milk and drank directly from it. Draco was a boy, and there was no question about it – even when he looked pretty.

"Nothing change? No severe pain lately?" Harry asked, taking off his gray pea coat and hanging it on one of the hooks near the door.

"Not really. Occasional headache here and there. I can feel the wound, though. It's still healing up. Gets really itchy at night," Draco said blandly after he downed the milk.

"Do you…" there was a pause as Harry appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, "mind if I look at it?"

"You want to look at it?" Draco asked, tossing out the empty milk container. As he looked at Harry for the first time that day, he noticed something different about the Gryffindor. He could not place it at first. Had he changed his hair? No, it was the same messy black mane. Maybe his glasses were different? They looked the same, and he could not imagine how they would make such a drastic change to Harry's appearance. Then the Slytherin realized what it was. Harry's clothes were much nicer than they were normally. It seemed like he was going to or coming from some sort of party or event, which required him to wear a coal black fitted button up shirt and nicer pants than the usual corduroy things he liked to sport.

"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders in a manner that Draco found dorky and amusing.

"I don't know what you're expecting to see," Draco muttered, walking over to the kitchen table.

"In the living room. The light is better," Harry demanded.

"Bossing me around in my own home. The audacity," Draco said, though he obliged begrudgingly and went into the living room.

Harry walked over to the window and pulled up the blinds. "Sit on the sofa. Please."

When Draco sat down, Harry walked over and sat down next to him. "Kneel over some… bend your neck..." he pushed Draco's body in the direction opposite of himself, and began to move around the blond man's still wet hair with his fingers.

"Your hands are cold!" Draco protested.

"I was outside. It is snowing!" Harry said emphatically, though he did so in a hushed voice. "Okay there it is."

"And?" Draco asked, feeling Harry's gaze on the back of his head and neck. Usually when men were this close, they were not asking to check out his injuries.

"There's a bit of bruising around it, which is very strange, but it seems to be healing up fine," Harry replied, still looking at the nasty cut. "You have a load of tension in your neck and back, Malfoy."

"Yeah. Sometimes almost getting raped can be a bit stressful." Draco could feel Harry shudder.

"Well, it's probably not helping things. Want a massage?"

Draco sat up erect, and turned to look at Harry. "What? You're a doctor _and_ a masseuse now?" Something about the offer made him suspicious, and he continued to eye the other man.

"Not really. I give Cho massages all the time, she gets really tight around the…"

"Wow, Potter. Really unnecessary just now!"

"…neck? What?" Harry looked bewildered.

They sat there for a moment, simply staring at each other. Finally, Draco let out a laugh, and Harry followed suit. It felt strange and new to laugh for both – it was as if they had forgotten who they were for a brief period of time. _This moment is not happening_, thought Draco, and he quickly stopped laughing and stared at Harry very seriously. When this happened, Harry too ceased laughing and looked away.

"I've let people do stranger things, I suppose. I don't know how I feel about this – simply because it is you, Potter," Malfoy muttered, looking angry for no apparent reason.

Draco was expecting some sort of response, but instead he felt hands on his upper back and shoulders. Surprising, Harry was quite good at working at those kinks that liked to build up in the muscles. The Gryffindor's hands were growing warmer with touch and friction or maybe Draco's body was abnormally warm all the time.

"Eww, Malfoy. You're all wet," Harry commented, skillfully kneading his fingers into the skin and muscle of Draco's neck.

"I just got out of the shower," Draco replied. Harry's hands hit a spot that especially ached, and a quiet moan escaped the Slytherin's lips.

"I think you're liking this too much," Harry commented, cocking an eyebrow that the other man could not see.

"Shut up," Draco snapped, though he did not stop Harry from continuing the massage. He did not want to admit that he was in awe of how strong Harry's fingers were. Catching the snitch during Quidditch must have done the body good.

A few minutes passed before Harry finally released Draco from his grip. He moved away from the Slytherin, but stayed on the sofa and leaned back against the cushions.

"Yeah, thanks," Draco commented. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms briefly before glancing over at the Gryffindor.

"Why are you all dressed up?" he finally asked, watching Harry as the man seemed to be contemplating something.

"Early dinner with Cho's family tonight," Harry commented, not sounding remotely excited by the idea. He was somewhat surprised that Malfoy had taken an interest. "They're incredibly traditional people."

"And you're not?" Draco asked with a slight laugh.

"Not nearly as much. After the things I've seen, I am not even sure how to act all proper. Cho does, though. Very much a gentlewoman."

To Draco, these did not necessarily sound like loving words. Words of admiration, maybe. Even possibly words laced with annoyance.

"Acting proper is for gits," Draco replied. He sudden decided to shake out his hair, tiny droplets hitting Harry in the face as he did.

"Merlin, Malfoy!" Harry sputtered, glaring at the nearby Slytherin.

"It'll dry faster," Malfoy muttered.

"Why is it so long now?" Harry asked. Granted, Draco's hair was only to his shoulders, and it was incredibly choppy looking – but it appeared to be intentionally so. The front often fell into one of the man's silver eyes, disguising part of his face. The way that the Slytherin looked bewildered Harry to some extent. He saw Draco quite easily and yet could not tell who exactly he was looking at.

"My dad always had long hair," Draco said dully. "So why not?"

Harry pursed his lips. He was glad Draco's hair was not as long as Lucius Malfoy's had been. "It looks nice, though. It's just different. You're just… different."

"Really Potter? Commenting on my hair now?" Draco asked, narrowing his gaze onto Harry's profile. "I think you're here because you have crush on me. Like a little school girl." He was gauging the reaction.

Harry flinched slightly, the same way he did whenever Draco said "rape." It reminded Draco of how people used to react to the name "Voldemort."

"Right, Malfoy," Harry replied, laughing it off awkwardly.

"You are kind of proper," Draco remarked. He got up from the sofa and walked towards the kitchen. "Stop looking at my ass, Potter."

"WHAT?" Harry replied, getting up from the sofa as well, and then turning to face the window.

Draco glanced back towards Harry as he walked. "Relax." He found Harry's reactions amusing. "I figure if I make you uncomfortable enough, you simply won't come back."

"I have to come back, though. If you end up dying… I can't take someone else I know dying before their time," Harry replied solemnly, still looking out the window.

There was no response from Draco – the blond was busy making tea, and thinking about all of the people they had known who had since been lost.

While he waited for the water to boil, he lit up a cigarette and sat on his counter by the stove. Harry walked into the kitchen, and Draco wondered why the man was so intent upon following him around the apartment.

"You're trying to kill yourself other ways, I see," Harry remarked about the cigarette.

Draco rolled his eyes, though the topic of suicide seemed to make him touchy. "Christ, Potter. Listen, I know this makes you feel better – when you feel like you're helping someone. When I'm all healed up, you'll stop badgering me. But me? I'm not that concerned about myself. "

"How can you say th…"

"There's nothing left for me." Draco looked downwards at the small white tiles on the floor. "It's gone. _My life_ is gone. Now I just want to have fun. I'm just passing time until my body expires. And when that comes, well let's just say that I won't be sad to see all of this ending finally."

Harry stood in the doorway, arms crossed and looking interesting in all black. It was different from seeing him in simple black robes.

"Maybe you just haven't found anything that inspires you to appreciate life more?" Harry questioned, trying to be helpful.

"This is what happens to me!" Draco replied, emphatically indicating the wound on his head. "What is there to appreciate? What the hell is there to be inspired by?"

"Well, maybe these things… these events, rather, are telling you that there is something in your life you need to change?"

Draco looked stupefied. "Are you telling me what to do, Potter? Is that is what happening right now?"

"Back up, Malfoy. I was not telling you to do anything. I was just proposing some ideas!"

"No, this is what you do. You… you constantly do this holier-than-thou thing, and it gets real fucking irritating. Just because you cannot relate or understand someone else, you start telling them that they living _their_ life wrong."

Harry looked dumbfounded. "You're obviously not happy! Look at you right now! Listen to the things that you're saying, Malfoy!"

Draco was silent. He hopped off the counter. "Just get out."

Harry stood there in the doorway still. "I wasn't…"

"Just leave. Please." It was obviously that Malfoy had enough of the conversation, and Harry decided to respect the man's wishes for once.

Grabbing his coat, Harry left the apartment without a goodbye.

_What the hell was that about? _Draco thought angrily. It seemed like so much had happened in a matter of minutes.

He put his cigarette out in the sink.

- - -

_The Next Day_

Against his better judgment, Harry had decided to go back to Malfoy's place to check on him. During his walk to the flat, the snow had begun to fall steadily. Sidewalks began to ice up, and Harry passed some children trying to ice skate by sliding over the ice in their shoes. Smiling to himself, he entered Draco's building and walked up the usual flight of stairs.

After knocking on the door for a few minutes, Harry gave up. Malfoy must have still been angry over something that was not worthy getting angry over, and Harry did not feel like hanging around the Slytherin's door like a lost pet.

Turning on his heel, Harry headed for the stairs and passed by an older woman carrying a bag of groceries who asked, "You looking for that bloke?" Harry wondered how many other men had hung around Draco's door before.

"Draco? Yeah, I am. He doesn't seem to be there," he replied.

"'Course he isn't. Went to the hospital last night, he did. Crazy bastard," she replied, not looking sympathetic in the slightest.

"The hospital?" Harry questioned with concern in his voice. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not all the details, mind you, but I know a thing or two about it," she said, the idea of gossiping with a stranger seemed to excite her.

"Here let me help you out," Harry offered to hold her bag of groceries for her. She willingly handed them over, tired of carrying them herself. She got her keys out and walked in the direction of her flat, and Harry trailed behind her.

"It isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened," she noted. "Last time I heard he had cut himself up real good then called an ambulance for himself. Kind of defeats the purpose, I'd think. Anyways, this time I heard from Mr. Harper on the second floor that the landlord tried to call on him. He's got to collect the rent, of course. So he is knocking on the door, naturally, and he figures that that boy isn't home. He hears quiet music playing inside, though. He also smells smoke. Maybe it was candles; I'm not too sure myself. Oh wait, yes - yes, it was candles, I remember. Anyways, 'course if that boy had candles burning and left, that could lead to the entire building burning down! So, naturally, the landlord gets the door opened, he does. He gets inside and finds candles lit all over the living room and kitchen– candles everywhere. He starts searching around 'cause he is awfully confused. There's some strange contemporary art film playing on the TV, music playing, supper getting cold on the table, and all those candles – obviously something abnormal is going on. So our landlord goes into the bedroom, and you know what he finds?"

Harry felt like the woman was trying to build suspense, and he almost forgot that he was carrying groceries. "What?" he asked urgently.

"More candles," she said as if she was proving a point.

"Oh…" Harry remarked.

"So he finally goes into the bathroom, and there is that boy. You know, he is skinny, he really should have eaten that supper. Anyways, that boy is lying in the bathtub, high as a bloody kite, and he had cut himself up real good again."

Harry's stomach turned uncomfortably. It felt like the blizzard from outside had invaded his internal organs.

"Landlord called an ambulance, and they made a fierce racket last night. Took that boy away, they did. Heard he was probably going to get his stomach pumped – probably be there for a while." She shook her head.

"How many times has this happened before?" Harry asked.

"Once before. That's enough, though." The woman eyed Harry suspiciously. "You look like a nice young man. What is your business with him anyway?" she asked, while unlocking the door to her flat.

Harry handed the groceries back over to her. "I'm an old school friend," he replied, not wanting to give this woman more gossip material.

"I see. Well, I'm sure he is still in the hospital. Should move out if you ask me – check himself into a mental ward."

Frowning, Harry was not sure if he agreed. "Listen, you've been a big help. Thank you for talking to me."

"Bye now," she said, entering her flat and locking the door loudly behind herself.

Harry stood in the hallway, trying to collect his thoughts.

He had to go to the hospital.

- - -

Feedback is welcome!


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